


Something Old, Something New

by NocturniasDoctor (nocturnias)



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Regeneration Angst (Doctor Who), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnias/pseuds/NocturniasDoctor
Summary: Rose and the 10th Doctor begin to deal with the aftermath of his regeneration and how it will affect their future. Set after "Parting of the Ways."
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Kudos: 18





	Something Old, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> My only 10/Rose fic.

Cold. She was so cold there was no way she could ever—EVER—be warm again.

"Rose?" His voice was soft, pleading… this strange, alien voice…

She hugged herself and huddled further into the corner.

"Rose… please get up." Closer now. If she opened her eyes she'd probably see him standing right in front of her…

"This isn't like you, you know. Where's my best girl, my brave little ape, eh?"

Now she did open her eyes and look at him, and he stepped back from the fury in her dark gaze.

"Your best girl? Your little ape?" she asked shrilly. "Who the hell do you think you are, saying things like that to me!"

His gaze was somber. "I'm the Doctor, Rose. It's still me."

"Can't be," she said, voice cracking. "He was—he had—you're—"

"It's ME," he insisted, crouching down beside her, being careful to keep some distance between them. "You know it's me. Who else could it be?"

"You changed…" she struggled to find the words to express her shock, sorrow, and outrage, but in the end she could only stare at him and wipe tears off her cheeks.

He sighed. "Didn't have much chance to warn you, I know. I never do have time to warn anybody proper… but it's not something I wanted to tell you on day one, now was it?"

"Could have," she retorted, sniffling, her usual confidence and determination peeking through.

"Oh, how's that, then? 'By the way, Rose, if I die, I won't really die, I'll regenerate and look and act different?' What a way to start your day, don't you think?"

She glared at him again. "You sound Scottish now," she said, making it seem like an accusation.

"What have you got against Scotland?" he demanded.

"Nothing! But that's my point! You say it's you, but it's not really you." She turned away from him and sighed. "I don't even know if you know me anymore."

He scooted closer to her and gently touched her shoulder. "I remember everything, Rose."

She started, eyes wide and a blush forming on her cheeks, understanding his meaning all too well. "And now you're gonna tell me that's gone, aren't you?" she asked dully. "Whatever you felt for me, it died when you died…"

"Is that what you want me to say?" he asked, dropping his hand and studying her with sadness in his eyes.

"I want you to tell me the truth!" she said angrily. "You DIED—I watched you die—and now you're back from the dead like, like some kind of magic happened, and you're you but you're not and I'm sorry that I'm not dealing with it to suit you!"

"Rose—"

"I loved you, dammit!" she cried. "Don't you have any idea what that means?"

He blinked. "Loved?" he asked softly. "As in, now you don't?"

"Would you give me a break?" she retorted. "How am I supposed to answer that?"

"How about honestly?" he said with a half-smile.

"This is completely mad," she muttered.

"I agree," he told her. When she stared at him he added: "sitting here on the floor having this conversation is stupid. Can we please go in the library and have a sit down?"

When she hesitated, he added: "Rose… whatever else you think—or feel—right now, I know you know you can trust me. I've never hurt you before, and I never will. Doctor's honor."

She managed a laugh. "I guess... we do need to talk about things," she admitted.

"Good." He rose and offered her his hand. After a few seconds hesitation she took it, noting with some absurd sense of relief that it felt like his skin had always felt, cool and smooth.

"Right," he said, smiling again. "Let's go."

Once inside the library, she caught his arm before he could tell her to sit, ask her about tea, or anything else. "Wait," she said softly, her fingers resting on his arm trembling ever so slightly. As he stared at her quizzically, she explained: "I want to look at you."

He was tempted to take her literally and tell her she was looking at him, but he understood what she really meant so he merely nodded and kept still.

Rose drew a deep breath and slowly circled him, her brown eyes taking in every detail like a blind person miraculously given sight. He was a bit taller and a bit thinner than… before. His hair was longer, lighter, almost rakish: his skin a different shade of pale, his eyes not the electric blue they were but dark, like the pain in her heart. Oh, he wasn't hard on the eyes at all: she'd be lying if she said that. He just wasn't… hers anymore.

"You don't like what you see," he said quietly.

She shook her head. "It's not that… you're quite…"

"What?"

"Pretty," she said faintly.

He smiled. "Glad I meet with your approval."

"It's just a lot to take in…" she sighed, feeling drained and defeated.

He nodded. "Want to sit down? Or do you need to inspect me some more? Not that I mind now that I know I'm just a gorgeous face to you…"

She managed to laugh again. Oh, thank God his sense of humor was still there! "Yeah, I'm ready for that sit down," she replied, doing just that.

As he walked over to a food machine in the corner, she asked: "Aren't you going to ask me what I want?"

"No."

She raised her eyebrows.

"We're going to have hot toddies," he told her. "It's cold in here, and we could both do with a drink of sorts."

Well, he's just as bossy… Rose shivered, wondering why she hadn't noticed it was cold until now, turning his behavior over in her mind.

It wasn't that the Doctor didn't drink: she'd seen him pull his share a few times. No, it was more the calm, self-assured manner he was affecting, the domineering yet caring "I know what's best" attitude that was part of what made him who he was… is, she reminded herself sternly. Who he is. Now matter how odd all this is, he is still… the Doctor.

She knew she needed to get used to that if she was going to stay with him, which was immediately followed by two other thoughts: Do I want to stay with him? Does he want me to stay with him? It was disturbing and she didn't want any truck with it, but she knew she had to face this along with everything else.

Right, she thought. I'll handle this with dignity and maturity.

When he handed her the toddy, she tossed it back: and, while the soothing warmth flowed down her throat and he stared at her in amusement and alarm, she blurted out: "D'you want me to go?"

He goggled at her. Truly goggled. He'd never done that before, which meant she'd really thrown him for a loop. Way to go, Rose. Very dignified and mature.

Very carefully, he took her mug and placed it on an end table, then took several long drinks from his own. Sitting it next to hers he said, "Why on Earth would you ask something so ridiculous?"

"How am I supposed to know that's ridiculous?" she retorted. "For all I know, this… version of you might not want me or anyone else around!"

"Version," he said quietly. "You make it sound like I'm computer software that just got an upgrade."

Rose groaned. "Look, that's not how I meant it… I'm sorry."

He nodded. "It's ok. I know this isn't easy for you, Rose. There are things we have to deal with that haven't been much of an issue with my previous incarnations and companions. Until the last few, that is."

She snorted. "Incarnation… you make it sound like you're a Buddhist."

"I suppose there's no easy way to describe what happens to me," he admitted. "Regeneration, incarnation, version… they're all applicable to some extent."

Rose nodded. "So… tell me more about this… regeneration."

The next half hour was spent with him telling her about the Time Lords, how each of them had regenerations when they died, how each one was different yet he was still the same person. He described a few of his former selves to her, making her alternate giggling with disbelief.

"No!" she exclaimed. "I cannot believe you ever wore a twenty-two foot long scarf!"

"Believe it," he grinned. "I'll have you know I was the epitome of fashion!"

"Yeah… for a loony bin candidate," she smirked. Then her expression turned serious. "Doctor…"

It was the first time she'd called him that since he'd regenerated, and it filled him with both happiness and trepidation. "Yes, Rose?"

"What number?"

"Sorry?"

"You said you get twelve of these reincarnations," she said quietly. "What number Doctor are you?"

He sighed and closed his eyes for a few seconds, then looked at her. " The tenth."

Her eyes widened. "So then…"

"I have three more incarnations after this," he finished.

"And then what?" she asked.

"Then that's it," he said. "I live out the rest of that life and I die and I'm gone."

"Just like that," she said.

"Everything dies, Rose," he said gently. "Even me."

"So, this regeneration thing…" she swallowed hard and plunged on. "Is it just for Time Lords? Or is it something you can do for anyone?"

He smiled at her, a sweet sad smile that said he understood why she was asking. "Just Time Lords."

"Right," she said, staring at her hands in her lap.

"Rose…"

She looked back at him.

"If I could… I'd do it for you," he said quietly. "If I could give you one of my regenerations, I'd do it."

She nodded. "Your toddy is getting cold," she said, hating the way her voice cracked at the end.

He reached over and lifted the mug, draining it in one long drink. "Do you want to leave, Rose?"

His voice was almost casual, which might have upset her if she wasn't looking into his eyes. His eyes were haunted and scared and that realization stole her breath. For in that instant, looking at him, she could see her Doctor in him. Shining through like a beacon in the dark. And she still wasn't sure about a lot of things, but this was one thing she had an answer for.

"I'm not going anywhere, Doctor," she said, and the relief in his face made her heart do an odd little flip.

TWO MONTHS LATER

"I cannot believe you'd do that!"

The Doctor frowned as Rose stormed through the TARDIS control room. "What?"

"You don't even understand what you did, do you?" she asked.

"I understand that I saved those people's lives," he retorted.

"At the cost of what, Doctor?" she demanded. "Sometimes you act like it's all ok, fit everything into your neat little box. It doesn't always work that way! These are people you're dealing with, not wind-up toys! I'm not a wind-up toy!"

"Don't you think I know that?" he demanded harshly. "Do you think for one second this was easy for me? That it's EVER easy for me? It's not, Rose! Every time I've almost lost you I've…" his voice trailed off and he turned away.

"You've what?" she asked softly. When he didn't respond she moved behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "You've what, Doctor?" she repeated.

He didn't answer. Rose could feel the tension there, like a rubber band about to snap. Without conscious thought, her hands began to move, kneading and pressing the muscles. After a few seconds, he moaned and she grinned.

"Long time no backrub?" she teased.

"If you stop I'll take you to Cardiff," he threatened.

"Guess I'd best sort you out, then," she deadpanned, and continued working on his shoulders.

After a few more minutes, when Rose could tell he was relaxed, she spoke again. "Doctor… I'm sorry. What I said wasn't fair."

"But it wasn't entirely untrue," he answered heavily. "At times I don't factor in the emotion equation. Feelings… intense feelings, at least, are still comparatively new to me."

Her hands stilled. "What do you mean?"

"Keep going, there," he said. As she resumed, he told her the story of his eighth incarnation and how human elements had been introduced into his regeneration, and how he'd changed as a result.

"So you used to be an unfeeling blowhard, is that what you're telling me?" she joked.

"Not… unfeeling," he clarified, "just… it was muffled. I was more detached. And I certainly did not feel anything…" his voice trailed off again.

"Anything what?"

"I can't explain it," he sighed.

Pull the other, Doctor, Rose thought. "I need for you to lie down for me to do your back properly," she told him.

She half expected him to make a sarcastic comment, but he simply headed for the library and lay down on the sofa. Rose was surprised by his sudden acquiescence.

It's just a backrub, she told herself. It's not like there's some great important decision involved.

Still, it struck her as different, though she made no comment as she worked on his sore muscles. Occasionally he sighed or moaned his appreciation and made her smile. She focused on making him feel better: the explanation she wanted and which he didn't seem able to give she pushed to the back of her mind. When she finally stopped, she expected him to jump up, and when he instead rolled over and looked into her eyes she wasn't prepared for the jolt of emotion she felt, or the force of his gaze.

"Love," he said quietly.

Now it was she who was goggling at him. "Sorry?"

"What I'd never understood before, not on a personal level, is love. I could get angry, or laugh, feel happiness… but to have someone as part of the core of my existence… I didn't have that feeling."

She blinked hard. "And… and do you now?" she asked.

"I did before I changed," he whispered. "And it hasn't gone away."

She almost jumped up, she was so taken aback by this open declaration: and probably would have if he hadn't put his arms around her waist and pulled her down beside him.

"Please don't run," he said.

"Doctor…"

"Do you still love me, Rose?" he asked earnestly. "Did you only love me for how I looked on the outside?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "I… it was part of who you were…are… but that's not why I loved…" her eyes blurred with tears as the sudden realization hit her.

"Love… you," she choked.

Now she began to sob; everything she'd felt the past few months crashed down on her, all the feelings she'd buried and denied rushed up and demanded recognition.

She loved who he'd been, and she loved who he was. He was different, yes. But he was still the Doctor; still a stubborn, smart, exasperating Time Lord. She wept for that other Doctor, for what they'd both hinted at, teased each other with but never followed through on: and she wept for this Doctor, for going through hell while he waited to see what her feelings for him were: and for herself, for not knowing and being afraid to find out.

He held her as she cried, saying nothing: stroking her hair and waiting patiently until her sobs subsided. When she stopped crying, he handed her a handkerchief. After she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, he said: "that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

She snorted and punched his arm lightly. "You think you've so clever."

"You mean I'm not?"

"Stuff it."

"Hey, go easy on me, Rose," he said. "I've been waiting to find out if I'd ever hear those words from you for two months now."

"Well now you've heard them," she said, a challenge flashing in her eyes. "So what do you have to say about it?"

He considered the question. "I say it's great!"

"Great," she echoed. "I just spilled my guts out to you, got your shirt sopping wet, ruined your handkerchief, and you say great."

"Well, isn't it?" he asked. "When two beings know they love each other, isn't that great?"

He smiled at her, and the childlike delight in his eyes and his smile made her want to weep all over again, but this time from happiness. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

"Yeah," she said with a laugh, feeling truly free again for the first time since he'd regenerated. "Yes, Doctor. It's great."

Rose wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep, or for how long. She just knew that she'd closed her eyes and when she opened them again she was groggy from sleep. The Doctor had shifted them into a more comfortable position on the sofa, and she could feel the cool lean length of his body against hers. She was surprised that he hadn't left her to go adjust the transtat stabilizers or some other equally bizarre piece of the TARDIS that had her smiling and nodding when the Doctor nattered on about it. She'd quickly learned that he just needed to voice his thoughts aloud when he talked about these things to help work through the problem.

Or maybe he just likes to hear himself talk, she thought, and giggled.

"Nice of you to let me know you're awake," the Doctor murmured.

"If you need to go recalibrate the—the distemporal transmitters, you could've left me to sleep," she retorted, punctuating it with a yawn.

He laughed. "So you do pay attention when I talk about that."

"Do I have a choice?" she teased.

"Not if you want me to keep listening to the glorious results of your turbulent youth, no," he replied, hands stroking her tangled hair.

"Mmm," she answered, enjoying the feel of his hands on her. After a few minutes, she raised her head to look at him. "Doctor… there's something I want to do."

"Oh? What would that be?"

Rose smiled, but didn't reply. He started to ask her again, but she pressed two fingers to his lips. The contact sent an unexpected jolt through him, and he closed his mouth and waited.

She cupped his face in her hands, looked into his eyes for a moment…, and began counting.

When she got to eight, he said: "Um, Rose…"

"Shh," she said sternly, and resumed counting. She counted for about a minute, silently towards the end, and when she stopped, she grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Twenty-seven."

"What?"

She tapped his nose lightly with a fingertip. "You, my fine fellow, have twenty-seven freckles on your face."

"Are you sure?" the Doctor asked in disbelief. "That many?"

"I might not be a Time Lord, but I do know how to count. And you most definitely have twenty-seven," she smirked.

"And what about the others?" he asked softly, eyes alight with mischief.

Rose swallowed. "The others?"

"The other freckles. Surely you can't do a proper scientific study if you don't count all of them," he said with a smile.

She swallowed again. Harder. Was he suggesting what she thought he was? The prospect made her breath hitch.

"I suppose I should get an accurate number," she said breathily. "In the name of science, of course," she added quickly.

His face was inscrutable. "Of course."

"So…" she said nervously.

"So… take me to your examination room, Doctor Tyler," he said.

"Right," she said. "Off we go, then."

Inside her bedroom, she paused near the bed, wondering if she looked as uneasy as she felt. It wasn't him: she was completely unafraid of him. It was… well, she wasn't too practiced at this. What if she disappointed him?

"I hope this isn't a letdown for you."

She swung around to stare at him. "What?"

He shrugged, a casual gesture, but his expression was serious. "I've not exactly done this much, Rose. I'm no interstellar Casanova or anything."

Rose laughed. "Do you think I care about that?"

"Probably not," he answered, smiling. "So why are you nervous?" he asked softly.

"I… I've not done this much myself," she said. "I was thinking about how I don't want to disappoint you…"

He laughed, moving beside her and encircling her in his arms. "You never disappoint me, Rose. In anything."

She returned his smile. "Same here. I guess we're being daft about this, then, aren't we?"

His answer was to kiss her.

It was, Rose would decide much later, the best kiss she'd ever had, no contest. It was gentle, it was fierce. It was confident and uncertain. They kissed as though they had all the time in existence to do nothing but kiss: and in a way, they did. She tasted like summer rain to him, the warmth of her body wrapping around him like a blanket. It made him feel safe in a way that he never knew he'd never felt, until this.

Things were hazy for him for a bit after that: there were kisses, there were touches, there were clothes, and then there were no clothes. His hands learned smooth skin and soft curves while hers explored sharp lines and firm angles. It should have bothered him, to have no concept of the passing of time while this happened: but it didn't. It amazed him and filled him with a strange exhilaration. The more he touched her, the more he wanted to touch her. She was opium and ecstasy feeding into his veins, water in land cracked and dead from heat.

His fingers splayed out like fans across her back as he slid down to bring his lips to her breasts. He licked a nipple, heard her moan, and did it again, bringing as much of her breasts as he could into his mouth and hands as he kissed, licked and stroked. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she gasped, arching against him, pulling him even closer before moving back slightly, her dazed eyes and flushed face making his entire body ache with wanting her.

She took his hands and pulled him to his feet, moving back towards her bed. He followed her down onto the cool cotton sheets, bending over her, planting kisses on her face and throat as his fingertips traced patterns on her hips. For a while, Rose was content to lie with her arms around him and enjoy his touch, but before long her desire to touch him in turn took over and she neatly flipped him onto his back.

His eyes widened in momentary surprise before he smiled and closed them.

"Bossy," he teased.

"I can stop, you know," she threatened playfully as her hands slid down his chest.

He opened one eye and peered up at her. "And I can still take you to Cardiff."

"Fair enough," Rose grinned. "Now hush while I continue my analysis."

She kissed him, tracing his lips with her tongue, and was rewarded with a sharp gasp. She worked her way to an ear and nibbled on it, occasionally breathing into it very gently, and he twitched. She drew the earlobe into her mouth and softly tugged on it and he arched against her.

"Rose... I don't think I have any freckles there," he groaned.

"So you don't," she murmured. "Perhaps I'd best check elsewhere, eh?"

And off she went; leaving no inch of him unkissed or untouched. He did have a smattering on his shoulders, which she started to count in a mock serious tone, and she'd reached fifteen before he moaned in complaint and she laughed. He kissed her again; his mouth demanding, passionate, and it sent shivers racing through her.

When her fingers closed around him, he shot up and said something incomprehensible, nearing knocking her in the forehead as he did. "Oi!" she exclaimed. "Easy there, please!"

He sank back down, looking flushed and startled and appropriately contrite. "Sorry. That's just… that's very…"

"What, you mean this?" she asked innocently, gliding her hand up and down now, enjoying the stunned expression on his face.

"I… yes… Rose, you might want to stop that," he gasped.

Her hand stilled. "You don't like it?"

"Oh, I do!" he assured her earnestly. "But I might not… last for very much longer if you don't."

She grinned and stretched out beside him.

He took her face in his hands. "You're so beautiful," he said quietly. "Everything about you is beautiful."

She leaned over to kiss him. After a moment, he moved back. "Are you sure about this, Rose?" he asked, eyes searching hers. "I don't want this if you're not sure."

"I'm sure," she said, and her words were both affirmation and promise.

He nodded, drawing her close, pressing his lips to her cheek before moving over her. He looked into her eyes as he slowly eased himself inside her, seeing her devotion, her friendship, and her love for him reflected in their depths. He rocked against her slowly, gently, wanting the moment to last a lifetime.

Rose held him tight, part of her not wanting him to ever move, to ever leave, to be here and be hers forever. She knew it wasn't realistic, that any day she could die or he could die, but that only made her more determined to make what they had now the best it could possibly be. All this time they'd been together, together but apart: now that was gone, replaced by something better, something new and frightening and wonderful. They couldn't go back from here, time machine or not. And Rose knew she didn't want to. She wanted to go forward, all the way to the edge of the universe, by his side.

She moved with him, matching him, breathing in the scent of him, whispering his name as he moaned hers. When he came she felt the odd double beat of his hearts surge against her skin, pounding so hard and fast she was afraid he would explode. But he didn't, and he didn't stop the easy rhythm of his body. He continued moving in the same slow, sweet way until Rose felt a climax claim her, again and again, while he consumed every possible inch of her. Only then did he stop, laying next to her while her reality returned to normal.

"Fibber," she gasped when she could speak.

"What?" he exclaimed.

"You made me think you were some sort of innocent little lamb with no clue what he was doing," she chuckled.

He shrugged, pulling her close and tucking her head under his chin. "I can't help it if I seem to have natural skill in everything I do."

"I guess you also can't help being conceited," she said impishly.

"It's a trade off. Is that a problem, Rose Tyler?" he teased.

She smiled and shook her head. "I think I can live with that."


End file.
